What Spock Wants
by TrueAwesomeSauce
Summary: What makes you get up every day, and put on the uniform? A 3-part story about passion, friendship, and philosophy, with a dash of Spock & Uhura.
1. Chapter 1

_What Spock Wants _

_Note: _Was asked recently (apparently as the most proximate ST wonk): So, if emotions are in bad taste on Vulcan, what do those guys want? Why would they work so hard all the time? (And, do they like their jobs? To this last, I simply say: Presumably they do, but wouldn't admit it…)

This little story had already been written; but, since I now have evidence that somebody else thinks about these things, I figured I'd share.

_Disclaimer:_ I neither own nor control the Vulcans, nor do I make money from the brilliant things they do and say in my head. (More's the pity.) I just try not to shame them.

_What Spock Wants_

Nyota Uhura was irate. As she dressed, she fumed, and allowed herself every perverse enjoyment she could get from her abrupt actions.

She pulled her hair back even more severely than normal - The end of her pony-tail flipped when she dropped her hands from tightening the band that held it.

She planted her hands on her hips and turned furiously on the only person who was within range of her rage. "Captain James T. Kirk is the most selfish self-centered person I have ever met in my life!"

The recipient of her words said nothing. He understood that the words were not said for his benefit.

"He knew how badly I wanted to hit the Base this morning, and now…" She hurled her hairbrush at the bed, where it bounced twice, ineffectually, before falling to the floor with a very soft thud, "I have to work."

He pulled on his blue uniform shirt before silently moving to pick up the brush. She would be distressed, later, to find that she had succumbed to the urge to throw it.

She had finished the last of her morning preparations, and would have to depart in eleven-point-four minutes.

She would enjoy her day less if she were to remain in this state. He moved toward her.

"How could he do this to me, Spock? _How_?" This last was a hip-handed head-back howl of frustration.

Behind her now, he put his arm around her waist and eased her body back to contact with his own. He gently kissed the side of her throat. As he felt the tension beginning to leave her form, he answered her question, his lips still sliding over her smooth skin, "I think you will find, Nyota, that the Captain is deserving of the benefit of the doubt in this situation. He may not often choose to explain his reasoning, but it is safe to say that it has occurred."

His other arm encircled her, and his voice was low and tranquil. "Perhaps he recognizes that you are the most efficient and sensitive communications officer employed upon this vessel." He felt the sigh even as he heard it.

He slid one palm down to rest on her hand where it still lay on her hip. "Perhaps he feels safer knowing that you are the one monitoring his frequency. He must: He often trusts you with his life."

Her body sagged against his lightly.

He placed one more kiss before moving his lips up so that his breath caressed her ear. "And perhaps, as I do, he takes pleasure in hearing the joy your voice contains when you say the word '_Enterprise_.'


	2. Chapter 2

Jim Kirk looked around the open area of the Base commercial section. He was fairly certain he'd be able to find Uhura here. Yesterday she'd told him there were some things she really wanted to get. It was about the most personal conversation they'd managed to have in the three months they'd been working together. Just for that moment, the cool façade had slipped, and he had had a glimpse of the real woman – her inner life, excitement, even a hint of fire - wasted, no doubt, on the man she loved. Jim had enjoyed it - and found there were lots of things he wanted to say, and to ask. He had been wanting to talk with her for a long time. He knew that if he could find her now, she'd be alone.

Spock was still on the Bridge of the _Enterprise_. He'd taken the center seat when they had returned from speaking with the Base Manager, though Kirk had half-heartedly offered him the chance of a little shoreleave. He had refused, saying he preferred to go about his duties. Dedicated, tireless - the man was an enigma.

If Jim had one of his occasional bouts of sleeplessness, he would get up and explore the ship, pretending that he'd never seen her before. Almost invariably, the Vulcan would be awake, too, working on some research project or another, on the Bridge or in some obscure corner of the ship – while Uhura, presumably, slept peacefully.

There. There she was, sitting at a café table. Bags and boxes were gathered around her feet, and she was drinking from a small teacup, smiling slightly. There she was - self-sufficient and self-reliant - without her tall silent shadow.


	3. Chapter 3

Captain James T Kirk dropped into the chair opposite her and stretched his legs out in an exaggerated version of the sprawl that irritated her so much when he did it in the Command Chair.

He smirked a little, and asked the first question that popped into his head. Once the words were out, he seemed as surprised by them as she was.

"Seriously, Captain? Seriously? You are asking me for advice on how to make Spock happy?"

"Well, no, Uhura, not exactly." His legs shifted and drew in, and he sat more squarely on his seat. At least her Captain had the courtesy to look uncomfortable.

He looked around as though he were expecting someone to hand him the right words. Then, after a second, he placed one palm flat on the table, and leaned forward. "Listen. The guy's my First Officer. I spend a lot of time with him. I get the feeling that sometimes I kinda irritate him."

Uhura resisted making any of the oh-so-numerous responses that sprang immediately to mind.

"I've tried," Kirk said, "but…"

Leaning back, he straightened one leg a bit, and crossed an arm over his chest. His eyes met hers. He looked a little bewildered. "Truth be told, I'm getting tired of feeling like I'm making the guy unhappy."

She frowned. "Spock would hate it if he knew we were talking about him."

"I know, Uhura, but you gotta help me out here." He spread his hands in the familiar gesture. Gods, she thought, James T. Kirk would be really charming if he just didn't _think_ he was.

Her sigh was exasperated, and there were lots of things she wanted to say, but she thought of her promise that morning to ('sometimes,' she'd added later, on the way to the Bridge) give the Captain the benefit of the doubt. She sighed again, and when she spoke, her voice was reasonably devoid of sarcasm. "Okay, Jim…" She thought of Spock, and tried again. "…Captain. You may be important and all, but you can't make Spock happy."

"Hey, now!"

"No. You listen to me. You can't make Spock happy…" She dropped the words one by one - like pebbles dropped into a steel bucket; they rang clearly as they fell: "Seriously: You. can't. make. Spock. happy. He doesn't want to _be_ happy. It's just not a motivating factor for him."

Watching him, it was obvious Kirk wasn't buying it: It was just too difficult a concept for him to get his head around. Maybe he had simply spent so much of his own life being miserable and chasing after the opposite of that, that he couldn't imagine that anybody would feel differently about it. Because one thing was clear – when Jim Kirk had finally had a taste of happiness, he had quickly become addicted.

(Well, as an addict he could be worse - at least it sounded like he wanted to share…)

Or, maybe the fact that he had bothered to ask had fooled her. Maybe she was giving him too much credit. Maybe he was simply too self-centered to be able to imagine what somebody else felt.

But when Kirk was pursuing something, he could be relentless. "Well. Then what _does_ he want?"

She thought seriously about walking away right then.

There was a pause while Jim seemed to really hear the words he'd just said.

She thought it would serve him right if she gave him an answer.

The pause lengthened. His blue eyes blinked then shifted, rose to look into her own. His thoughtful voice, holding none of its usual cocky glibness, was almost a little rough. "Tell me, Uhura – you know him better than anyone… If Spock could have anything, anything at all, what would it be?"

Gazing across the table at him, she thought she should do this properly – Spock could appreciate that…

She folded her hands in front of her, and studied his face, willing him to take this in all seriousness. Carefully, as though it brought her pain, she said, "You want to know what Spock really wants?"

Kirk replied with absolute sincerity. "More than anything."

For the moment, she believed him.

Looking into Uhura's eyes, Jim found himself holding his breath. She was extraordinary. The Vulcan didn't deserve her. He couldn't possibly appreciate her. He couldn't know how very lucky he was…

"What does Spock want?" She, too, seemed to be really hearing what she was saying.

She was silent a moment, then spoke, slowly, considering her words. Her earnest voice held all of Spock's solemnity and deliberation, and her own (painful to hear) unadulterated love. "What Spock wants - for himself, for you and me, for the crew - for all of us: The remaining Vulcans, Earth, the Federation, all lifeforms out there unknown - for everyone currently alive and everyone who is to come -" she was no longer looking at him, and seemed to be listening to something only she could hear, "is that we each achieve satisfaction through the realization of our own unique possibility."

Her sincerity made her words compelling. He was unable to look away.

Her fingers drew small symbols on the table as though illustrating her words. And, though her eyes rose to meet his as she spoke, they seemed to be seeing something far away. "By dedicating ourselves - individually and collectively - to the common good, and betterment of all life; by fully utilizing our particular strengths and abilities; by enabling ourselves and one another to maximize our greatest potential; we, each of us, can fulfill our ultimate purpose: The furthering of the greater good."

Fascinated, James Kirk listened.

And when she was finished, he was silent.

He was thinking about what she had said.

He thought about each word separately, then added them back up into phrases, then into sentences…

Jim wasn't sure he wanted to believe her. It seemed both too much, and too simple. He wouldn't have believed her – would have thought she was being evasive, or sardonic, or _some_thing – if it had not been so patently, nakedly true.

He could hear Spock's voice in every word.

He tried to think about Spock himself, but he couldn't: The implications of Uhura's words were… His mind rebelled and sought something smaller it could encompass. It occurred to Jim, though, that he'd have to put in that effort, and that he really should do it soon. He owed Spock that much, and more.

Meanwhile, he was thinking about what someone else wanted.

He was silent for a long time. They both were.

It occurred to Jim that, when it came to Spock, Uhura might believe that she was the lucky one.

It occurred to him that she might be right.

Uhura thought that, just maybe, Spock was correct: Perhaps there was some hidden potential in James Kirk… It didn't matter if she saw it or not; if it was there, that was enough. Besides: Spock saw it, and that meant that Jim Kirk might, someday, too.

It occurred to Jim that, for someone who really, truly, believed in the greater good - who worked toward it with every fiber of his being, with every ability he had - somebody like_ him_ would be irritating.

When Jim finally did speak, he didn't pick apart what she had offered. It didn't occur to him to say any of the slighting, biting things that, until he was silent, she had half-feared to hear. They weren't in him. Instead he said, slowly, "What Spock wants…" He stopped, looking down at his hands, scarred still, from his last fight.

"Spock wants to - do a good job?"

He seemed to gather himself before deliberately raising his eyes to hers. "He wants to be - he wants _me_ to be – content doing the right thing."

She heard the question hidden in the start of his statement, and the growing conviction at the end.

She smiled. "Yes." Her smile grew wider. "That's exactly what he wants."


End file.
